
I am a skinny, threadbare sort of person. You might've seen me somewhere as I hobble in and out of the streets in Delhi, books in one hand, a cloth bag in another. My clothes flapping about me as I walk, I think what I'm wearing is like sailcloth. Or a shroud. Flapping about me all the time.
Here, on the street, I'm not who I appear to be. It's just my clothes and my body that the world can see.
I am, the real Riya is, elsewhere, without them.
So what does the real Riya do?
She plunges deep down, and after long hours of drowning in the tides of her own confidence [or the lack of it], appears stronger [or weaker], and believes [or chooses to believe] she is free.
A typical Aquarian.